Against the Tide (10 page)

‘You know that's not true. You've had a difficult day but she's still very keen on you –'

‘What? After that exhibition?'

‘Yes, especially after that
exhibition
.' She smiled. ‘I don't think you really understand, do you?'

I tried to keep the sudden disappointment off my face.

She spotted it. ‘Don't be sad. It's just not the right time, yet.'

I tried to speak but she lifted her mouth and touched her lips gently to mine, brushed them tenderly then slid them onto my cheek before whispering in my ear.

‘It's not right. We can't, until you…'

‘Yes?'

‘Until you
both
believe it's over.' She hugged me and dropped her head into my neck.

Holding back now was the hardest thing I had ever done. Her brief kiss had melted something, released an emotion I didn't understand. I wanted to kiss her again but I kept my head up and held her tightly. I let her burrow into me, felt her body heave, as her sobbing increased.

Embarrassed, I clung on helpless, uncertain what to say or do. I realised that there was nothing to be said. All I could do was comfort her and so I held her and rubbed her back while she cried in my arms.

I waited for what seemed longer than that Green Island swim until she had exhausted her tears. The dusk settled like a blanket around us and still I waited. She couldn't be this upset about Caroline, could she?

Eventually she raised her head and I was ready with my handkerchief.

‘A gentleman to the end.' Her voice was unsteady. ‘I'm so sorry, Jack. I should have kept it inside. You didn't deserve that. It's not fair.' She blew her nose and sniffled, clutching the piece of cotton in her hands.

‘It's me who should be sorry. I shouldn't have presumed –'

‘No, Jack, this isn't about you.' She shook her head and splattered the remaining tears over her wrists. She took more deep breaths and looked away towards the sun's final pink ribbon, which still streaked the western sky. She slumped back into me and rested her cheek against mine. ‘It's been a strange day, for both of us.'

‘Do you want to tell me about it?'

She kissed my cheek. ‘Of course I do but I don't know if I'm ready yet. It's too soon. I have to tell someone and I want it to be you but it's still too painful.'

I wanted to know this secret, even though I realised that it was not about me. It was breaking her heart but I couldn't push, would have to wait. I pulled her closer and enveloped her in my arms. ‘I think I understand. I can wait until you are ready –'

Suddenly she pulled away, sat upright and turned to look directly at me. ‘Jack, you are too good to be true at times.' Her tone had changed and she was almost fierce with me. ‘You are easy prey. I don't want to be mean about Caroline but, despite what she believes, this is not a competition. You are not a prize. You have to be yourself, but first you have to know who you are. When you've worked that out then we can be…' her voice tailed off.

‘Friends, or?' I tried to finish her sentence but my voice faltered.

She smiled. ‘Only time will tell.' She squeezed my hands. ‘Please take me home now. Slowly.'

11

She seemed more relaxed on the ride back, leaning into me, her arms tight around my waist as we cruised through the velvet night, the feeble Lucas headlight illuminating little more than the mudguard on the front wheel. I could feel the vibrations as she hummed tunelessly into my back. As we reached Havre des Pas, she began to tense up and pull me back towards her.

I turned into Roseville Street but she whispered urgently, ‘Stop. Don't take me any further.'

I pulled up and let the engine idle. It burbled, almost soothingly.

She dismounted. ‘I don't want to go home. I can't face them yet.' She sounded worried, almost frightened. She rested her hands on my shoulders and pressed her forehead into mine. ‘Can we walk for a bit?'

I tried to focus on her eyes but they were too close. What was troubling her? Was it really about me not knowing myself, or was she also struggling for an identity? I couldn't abandon her now but I couldn't abandon
Boadicea
either.

‘I'll turn around and park at the top of the bridge. You join me there, okay?'

She lifted her head and nodded.

I risked a feet-up turn and propelled the big bike across the road and onto the pavement again, yards from where Caroline had confronted us earlier. It was still warm, balmy even, and I slipped my jacket off and slung it over my shoulder.

She joined me and reached out for my right hand. ‘Let's sneak into the pool.' She sounded more cheerful as she squeezed her palm into mine. ‘Come on, no one will know.'

‘Someone will spot us if we climb over the gate. We'll have to go along the beach and over the back by the stands. I reckon we've got about an hour before the tide cuts us off. Time enough for you to tell me what's wrong?'

‘Perhaps.' She pulled me towards the steps and hurried me across the sand and onto the rocks behind the terraces. We clambered up the bank and underneath the stands until we were in the shadows of the diving stage.

‘Let's go up to the Blue Terrace. I feel like a dance.'

She was becoming even more unpredictable than Caroline. She'd be wanting to go for a swim next.

‘Okay, but you'll have to make the music.'

We climbed the steep granite steps, past the lookout and surveyed the empty terrace. The deckchairs and tables had been scooped up and piled in the shadows alongside the buffet.

The fairy lights, strung along the promenade, seemed brighter in the encroaching gloom as I dropped my jacket and held out my arms to invite her to dance. She eased herself into position and began to hum “Stardust” softly. We moved comfortably together, though I was careful where I placed my hobnailed army boots. Those lessons in the Plaza ballroom above West's Cinema hadn't been entirely wasted. She relaxed and moved with me as I responded to her increasing tempo until we twirled in a crescendo, spinning dizzily, almost out of control. We grabbed the buffet counter and held on while the world steadied itself.

‘That was fun, Jack. I needed that.' She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me firmly on the lips. Before I could react, she was gone, running off towards the cabins. ‘Come on, let's play hide and seek. You stay there and count to ten and then come and find me.'

Her disembodied voice echoed from the dark somewhere in the middle of the ladies changing area.

‘Count out loud so that I can hide.'

‘Never mind counting, I'm coming now and I'm going to tickle you until you scream for mercy.'

She didn't respond, so I started off on the quest, uncertain what she expected me to do when I found her. Was this just a teasing game for her, or was she hiding from more than just me?

I tiptoed along the line of cabins, pausing at each to look over the top of the three-quarter length door, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. I heard her shallow breaths but passed on. Two could play at this game. I made a little more noise so that she could follow my progress then slipped into one of the cabins, sat down on the slatted bench and waited.

I strained to listen. Was she stalking me now?

The cabin door burst open and she flung herself at me, wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me hard. This time she stayed and allowed me to kiss her back. Her lips were cool and moist, her breath sweet and her tongue teased mine as she melted into me. We held the kiss, moving through urgent passion to quiet tenderness, then eased apart.

She sat on the bench beside me and grabbed my wrists. ‘If I tell you my secret, will you promise me that you will share it with no one, ever?'

I had no idea what she wanted to say but I had to hear it.

‘Are you sure you want to tell me? Can you trust me when I don't know myself?'

‘Don't be cruel, Jack. I trust you probably more than you will ever know.' She reached out and ran her fingers over my face, touching my eyes then my lips.

A shiver wriggled down my spine. ‘Alright, I promise.'

She took a deep breath then let it out slowly.

‘Yesterday, I discovered that I'm not who I thought I was.'

The shiver froze. I tried to speak but she pressed her finger to my lips.

‘Just listen, I need to explain this. My parents are difficult. You haven't spoken to them but you've seen them. They live in a different age. Mother is kind and generous but never ever disagrees with Father. He is fierce, frightening at times, stubborn beyond belief and will never entertain an opposite point of view. They never discuss things with me. I was told to leave school, told to go to work, given my tasks; there was no debate. I tried to question him once and he roared me into tears.'

She hesitated, reliving the moment, her voice catching with sadness. ‘I think they love me but that would be the last thing they would ever say. They are quite alone. There were some relatives we used to visit but there was a big argument and now only one of Mother's cousins ever calls. They are both Viberts, you know, though they aren't related. They did tell me that once.'

She paused again. ‘Yesterday evening I overheard Mother talking to Cousin Enid. They didn't realise I was in the hallway. They were talking about Enid's daughter, who has a prolapse.'

She sensed my question but squeezed it off with her hand. ‘That's a woman's problem with her womb. Apparently, it's pretty awful and she is in considerable pain. I'll spare you the details. Anyway, they were discussing whether she should follow the doctor's advice and have a hysterectomy. She's thirty-five now, which is quite young for such an operation. Enid reminded Mother that she had the same problem when she was thirty-three and wanted to know what went through her mind before she had the operation. Mother is sixty-one. I'm eighteen. You can do the arithmetic. It means that I was born ten years after her womb was removed. You see, Jack, I am a little miracle.'

She swallowed. ‘I crept away and sneaked into his study, where he keeps his desk. There is a little hidden compartment. He is very clever with his hands and he made the desk. It probably has other secrets as well. He was out collecting rents so I opened the compartment and pulled out the small bundle of papers wedged in there. One of them was in French – you know, the legal Norman version. It was a letter from Jurat Le Brocq. I didn't understand all of it but it referred to an agreement between my father, Edward Vibert, and two other parties, a George Vibert and Louisa Mahrer who were resident in Caen. It was about the adoption of a sixth-month old infant girl.'

I gasped but she pressed her hand over my mouth before I could speak.

‘I remembered Mother and Father arguing about his young cousin who had stayed in France after the war – how he was good for nothing, indolent, a ladies' man. I didn't understand what they meant at the time and he wasn't mentioned again in my presence. I do remember another time when they had received a letter and were talking about a Louisa who lived in France.' She stopped.

I felt her stiffen, could feel the tension gripping her. I waited.

‘Mother said “it was only to be expected.” Father was very angry and slammed the table before ripping the letter to shreds. He turned to Mother and said, “What else could you expect from the Jewish bitch?'''

I reached out and pulled her into me.

‘You see, Jack, I've been living a lie for eighteen years – I'm not me.'

I didn't know what to say but had to speak. ‘Do they know?'

‘Not yet. Oh, Jack, where can I get the courage to tell them?'

‘Do you need to?'

She stopped sniffling. ‘You're right. Why do they need to know – what can I gain by confronting them? Father will see my searching his desk as a betrayal. No, it's not worth it. Unless they're willing to tell me about my real parents and why they kept this from me. Tell me that I'm more than a purchased servant. Tell me they love me. Because they never have. Not once. Not ever.'

Silence, then a small voice. ‘I'm sorry, Jack. This must be very tedious for you. You wanted some fun, not my sordid little story.'

‘That's cruel, Rachel. Of course I'm interested. I just want to help you find the best way of dealing with this.' I turned away, hurt.

‘Don't sulk, Jack.' She turned with me and ran her hand over my cheek. ‘You have been wonderful. Don't you understand that you are the only person I wanted to tell? She reached up and kissed me again. My heart raced as she pulled my head towards her, crushing my lips with a force and passion I had never experienced before. I felt helpless, and, again, she was the first to break away.

‘I'm too hot. Let's go for a swim,' she said

‘What? You're mad. We haven't got any costumes, or towels – we'll be seen.'

‘Shush, stop being so…' she sought for the word, ‘conventional. Come on. It will cheer us up.'

She stood up, removed her shoes and socks and pulled her jumper over her head, revealing a white bra, which she shrugged out of in one movement. Almost innocently, like a young child, she undid the side zip on her slacks, stepped out then kicked them away. Without pausing, she rolled down her white knickers then stood, hands on hips, looking at me. ‘Come on, slow coach. I'm ready.'

I couldn't believe it. Was this Rachel or Caroline in front of me? The speed with which she had shed her clothes and the matter of fact way she now stood naked, almost challenging, was a complete surprise. Naturally, I'd examined her shape, surreptitiously, through her wet costume before. Now, I admired her well-rounded, firm breasts and prominent nipples, the slender waist, which curved into almost boyish hips, and the dark triangle between her legs. She was beautiful, but quite mad.

Impatient with me, she started to tug my shirt out of my trousers, reached for my belt and started to struggle with the buckle. It had been easy enough to release in the town hall, but I hadn't had the chance to tell her about that yet.